


I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm

by misskatieleigh



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, Knitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: There were mittens in Cassian's pocket.





	I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: A secret admirer made you a scarf…and some mittens…and a hat. They either need a knitting intervention or they really like you.

There were mittens in Cassian’s pocket. 

Not gloves, Alliance issued and matched to every other set on base. Mittens. Soft and warm and a deep deep blue, tucked into the pocket of his parka right next to the little hand warmer packets that you shook to activate and made your hands smell like an odd mix of x-wing fuel and pine trees. Cassian didn’t remember buying them, or putting them there, but he’d lost one of his gloves - (It wasn’t really lost. He knew exactly where it was. The glove was a small sacrifice.) - and he wasn’t about to turn them down out of spite. Those, plus the hand warmer packets, kept him from losing any fingers to frostbite. When he got back to base, bruised and battered but whole, he made sure to tuck them back into his inner pocket, along with a new set of warming packets. Just in case. 

\---

Cassian Andor did not wear hats. They made his hair flat and his chin look too sharp, not to mention the constant on-off of trying to regulate temperature in one. Unless it was part of a uniform, he trusted in his hair and a hood to keep him warm. 

Then the base barber shaved the back of his head. Shaved maybe wasn’t the best word for it, cropped was more accurate, but in any case, suddenly his hair wasn’t there to keep the draft off the back of his neck. And space was _cold_. The knit cap laid carefully on his pillow that evening was the same deep shade of blue as the mittens, with a raised pattern that twisted around itself leading up toward the peak. Cassian furrowed his brow and squinted at it, ignoring the random apparition of wool while he changed out of the day’s clothes and into his sleepwear. He ignored it while he brushed his teeth and while he checked his datapad for any last minute changes to the mission he was leaving on in the morning. 

Finally, he turned toward the bed, picking the hat up and stretching it gently in his hands. It was warm, despite sitting alone on the bed all that time. Like someone had just taken it out of their pocket a moment ago. Cassian closed his fist around the wool and squeezed, the feeling of it compressing in his hands vaguely satisfying. Then he padded over to the bag he had packed, and slid the hat into one of the side pockets. Just in case.

\---

Cassian sneezed, groaning and rolling over onto his side. He rubbed at his eyes blearily, then tugged the blanket up around his chin. It felt warmer than normal, and softer than the itchy but durable blankets that the quartermaster had handed out with a wince. He shrugged off the soft clacking noises to his right as some strange side effect of his head cold until they paused, a bitten off curse replacing the steady rhythm. 

“Kriff-”

Dragging his eyes open, Cassian peered over his shoulder at the person sitting cross-legged in the chair next to his bed. He spent several minutes trying to figure out how anyone could sit comfortably like that for any period of time, then finally registered that the person was Bodhi. 

“Wha..” Cassian trailed off, voice rasping painfully with even that short attempt at speaking.

Bodhi looked up, lower lip caught between his teeth as his fingers worked to unravel a curl of deep blue string. He was _knitting_. 

Bodhi's smile spread across his face, quicksilver there and gone, then he winced. “Dropped a stitch. Had to go back a row to pick it up again.”

Cassian shifted onto his back, pushing against the mattress as he attempted to sit up. Bodhi made a noise of distress, stabbing something into a soft round ball tucked between his hip and the arm of the chair before fumbling to his feet. 

“Here, let me..” he said, threading an arm behind Cassian's back and reaching for Cassian's elbow with the other. Together, they managed to get him seated with his back against the headboard, a pillow tucked behind his shoulders for cushioning. It was then that Cassian realized that the softness he’d been tugging at was not a blanket, but a scarf. One end wound around his neck and the other dangled off the side of the bed, still attached, by a string of wool, to the ball tucked into Bodhi’s chair. 

“You’re knitting,” Cassian croaked, his throat closing in on itself. Bodhi flushed, turning to grab a cup of water off the small table that sat beside his bed and holding it up to Cassian’s mouth. 

“Here, drink.” He waited until Cassian had taken several painful swallows before deeming it satisfactory, then he put the cup back and tucked himself into the chair once more. “Yes. I, um. I’m knitting. It’s not ready yet, but you seemed like you needed it.”

Cassian reached up to brush his fingers over the soft material, recognizing the same deep blue as the mittens and hat he already had tucked away safely. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a small smile and he ducked his head. 

“Those other things were from you as well, then.”

Bodhi nodded, his face perfectly blank like he was waiting for Cassian’s response. 

“I… Thank you.” Bodhi let out a breath and a grin spread across his face, tension dropping away from his shoulders. Cassian touched the scarf again. “Why though? I don’t understand… they’re very nice, but. I don’t have anything for you. Why are you making things for me?”

The look on Bodhi’s face was at once confused and a little sad. “Because. I wanted to. Just because. I… I wanted you to have something that I made.” His voice went very quiet then. “I wanted you to have a reason to think of me.”

Cassian dropped the scarf and reached out for Bodhi’s hand, carefully twining their fingers together. “I don’t need a reason, Bodhi. I already think of you. More than I should, probably.”

Bodhi leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against the back of Cassian’s hand. His smile turned a little mischievous, and he looked up at Cassian through the dark splay of his eyelashes. “How often?”

Cassian tugged on Bodhi’s hand, encouraging him out of the chair and up onto the side of the bed. Then he brought his free hand up to cup Bodhi’s cheek, looking up into his boyfriend’s face fondly. “Constantly.”

Bodhi settled against his side, tucked under his arm, and leaned his head back against Cassian’s shoulder. He picked up his knitting and set his deft fingers back to work, row after row of soft blue stitches winding off the ends of the needles. The steady rhythm lulled him, and his eyes drifted closed, safe and happy and with Bodhi’s love keeping him warm. 


End file.
